


From the Mouths of Babes

by 1lostone



Category: The Walking Dead (TV), The Walking Dead (Telltale Video Game)
Genre: Carl Grimes- professional matchmaker, Carl-Pov, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Secret Santa!, fluffy fluff that is fluffy, i blame jlm for everything
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-11
Updated: 2016-12-11
Packaged: 2018-09-07 19:14:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8812867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1lostone/pseuds/1lostone
Summary: Carl Grimes, professional badass. Martha Stewart ain't got nothing on him.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheBlackRoom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBlackRoom/gifts).



> Written as a Secret Santa fic for TheBlackRoom, for the Rickyl Writers' Group 2016 Secret Santa Exchange!

They had decided to walk.

Snow covered every surface, turning the decrepit and dangerous into something beautiful. The air was so cold that it hurt Carl’s chest a little if he breathed in too sharply. This wasn’t as bad as two years ago- that first winter under Negan’s rule had been cruel, cold, and heartbreaking. Things had changed in the three years since, though. The temperature had been steadily dropping, and Carl figured that it was just about perfect for what he wanted to do.

“Snow?” Judith pointed with her little face completely serious, her eyes a bright blue above the red and white striped scarf. Eugene had given it to her for her fifth birthday with two boxes of peppermint candy canes, and Judith had been absolutely delighted. It snowed behind the walls of course, but Carl was hoping to show her something a little different. They rarely had enough snow for even a snowman. To all of them from Atlanta, the first time it had snowed had seemed like a blizzard from hell. The people who had grown up in this area laughed it off.

“Yep. That’s snow.” Carl smiled down at his sister and took her gloved hand in his. Curious, she prodded at a tree limb, then smiled when a huge avalanche fell down on her dad’s boot. Rick mock-glared at her, kicking the snow off the top of his boots, before grinning and taking her other hand.

Judith smiled, but didn’t laugh.

Carl didn’t often get to spend time outside the walls with his kid sister, Judith. And to be honest, he didn’t like her to go outside if it wasn’t necessary. On the rare occasions that she did, his dad and Daryl stuck to them like glue. Almost literally. It reminded Carl of the cartoons he used to watch way back before everything went to shit- where the plucky good guys would all move together as one- with barely a breath between them.

Carl didn’t mind much. He felt the same way. And, to be honest, Carl wouldn’t have chanced it if not for the (well, Maggie would call it ‘miraculous’, but Carl didn’t believe in any of that God stuff anymore) fairly significant event that they’d discovered last February.

Walkers weren’t as ‘alive’ in the winter. They didn’t quite freeze, and they weren’t quite dead. Well, _really_ dead. As best as Jesus could explain, they hibernated. There had not been a winter cold enough to test it, although further north it might have happened every year for all they knew. None of the people in their community had been from anywhere further north than DC, though, so it was anyone’s guess.

Sasha claimed that was a damn good reason to move to Canada.

Still, Carl knew that they were as safe as they could be. Safe enough to take Judith out for a little bit anyway, even if it was fairly close to sunset. Carl figured they had about thirty minutes until the sun actually set.

He hadn’t told his dad what he had planned, but trying to keep a secret from Daryl when it came to any of the Grimes family' was damn near an impossibility, so Carl erred on the side of caution and got Daryl onboard. At least amenable to getting Judith and his dad outside of the walls, anyway. Carl had managed to keep a few things under his sleeve. He hoped.

Though, with Daryl, one never really knew.

They didn’t need to drive. Finding snow tires was a pain in the ass, and the crunch of them on ice was dangerous enough- just loud enough to wake the sluggish walkers out of their hibernation state. They’d have to be practically on top of them to do it, but Carl wasn’t gonna take any chances.

He stole a glance down at Judith, frowning a little. He knew it bothered the adults that she was so quiet. Maggie’s daughter Jo babbled all the time. She was almost three, and would talk about everything and anything that she could. Judith, who was older... didn’t. Where Jo was vivacious, Judith was reserved. Judith was very small (her lack of steady nutrition when she was a baby was something they’d all mourned about) and almost the same size as the much more healthy-looking Jo.

They all knew why, of course.

Judith hadn’t always been able to eat when she was hungry, or play when she was bored. What schooling she’d had was verbal, or based mostly in identifying dangers. That left her as tiny and fey-looking, more apt to speak only when she was excited- and even then in one word sentences more often than not, it was difficult _not_ to want to protect her. Carl knew his dad had adamantly refused to let Carol teach Judith how to use a weapon, but Judith carried a knife in her backpack. It was sheathed, and Judith had been drilled in what to do- if there was an emergency, Judith was to toss the knife to the nearest adult.

They all knew that if things were ever that dire, the adult would hopefully be able to end things for all of them. Still, Carl figured that it was important enough that Judith not be afraid of weapons. Respectful, yes. Afraid, no.

“You hear that?”

Daryl’s gruff voice made Carl roll his eyes. The sound of the generator was faint enough that most people wouldn't have heard it. Daryl was always more aware than any of the rest of them, though. Carl managed to give what he thought was a fairly unobtrusive elbow in the ribs, and figured that Daryl must love him a little because the rude gesture didn’t earn him a knife in the ribs in reflex.

“Hear what?” Carl watched his dad cock his head, listening. He had a moment of panic that everything would be ruined by Daryl Dixon and his damn inhuman survival skills. He widened his eye in panic and Daryl, as Daryl always seemed to do, knew instantly that he’d fucked something up.

Daryl managed a snort, and shook his head. “Nevermind. Wasn’t nothin’. We almost there, Carl?”

Carl nodded, pointing up to the hill. Judith followed the direction of his finger, before cocking her head to the left like a miniature version of Rick and frowning. “House?”

“Yep! That’s where we’re going.” Carl didn’t miss the significant glance his dad gave Daryl, and he figured his game was about up. He knew he was pushing his luck when he fake-stumbled, then spent a very long time tying his shoes so that Judith started walking between Daryl and Rick. They were halfway up the hill more quickly than he anticipated.

For a second, Carl remembered being little and walking between his mom and his dad, the two of them swinging him between them. He remembered the vertigo, and the absolute certainty that his parents would keep him safe.

Now though, that wasn’t how Judith was raised. Even if Judith _did_ have Daryl or his dad swing her between them, Rick and Daryl wouldn’t be relaxed, or in the moment. They couldn’t be- not when they were constantly on guard. It hurt Carl’s heart to think of all the things his sister had missed; things that he had taken for granted as a kid with two parents who thought the world of him.

Sighing, Carl waited until they had almost hit the crest of the hill before he hit the remote that Eugene had rigged for him. He’d timed it well enough that between the overcast evening and the encroaching dusk, it was dark enough that the visual would work.

He _hoped_.

The house on the hill had obviously once been fairly substantial. Now, the main structure had burnt down and what looked like a guest house had been left mostly untouched by the ravages of weather, decay, and life after the walkers had arrived. Part of the roof was gone, but a few days ago, Carl had set everything up. There was a tarp on the roof so that they could stay there for the night. The generator that Daryl had heard was very small, and Carl had saved up his ration of gasoline for a month in order to be able to pull this off for his little sister. Carl had fixed up what used to be the master bedroom as a little nest for the four of them, and had made damn sure it was as secure as he could make it- so secure in fact that Carl knew both Rick and Daryl would even give their collective, hard-won seals of approval.

With the press of the button, lights came on.

Judith actually gasped out loud and stopped, staring at the small house in wonder.

Carl had spent days stringing Christmas lights. He’d been amazed that he’d found so many of them that were unbroken. It had taken days and days of searching house after house, raiding people’s stashes of holiday decorations.

The white, blinking lights bordered the door and windows of the front of the house. Multi-colored mini bulbs turned the broken, half-burnt tree that had been on the front yard into something beautiful.

“Wow! Carl... _wow!_ ”

Carl couldn’t help the grin on his face. He quickly looked around from their vantage point on the hill, making certain that none of his walker traps had been tripped. It would have sucked to have all this planned out and have the rude surprise of a few walkers jumping out of them from behind a bush or something. But no, nothing was out of place.

Carl didn’t miss the way Daryl watched his dad watch the lights, taking in the surprised pleasure on his dad’s face with something that looked very much like adoration, but Carl had a plan for that too.

“Can we make angels?”

They had done that before, when the snow had been powder. Judith had made angels all over the place, until the ASZ residents had looked like they were playing a weird form of hopscotch so that they wouldn’t step on one of them.

“It’ll be dark soon. We can probably do it tomorrow, though.” Rick brushed his hand over the top of Judith’s head and smiled down at her.

Carl felt bad that he had to shoo them inside. “We can’t keep them on too long. I don’t want to draw too much attention.”

Judith pulled away from Daryl and her dad and walked up to the gnarled tree with the multi-colored lights on it and touched them, completely in awe. She touched the lights, and poked at the beginnings of icicles that had formed on the wire of the lights smiling a little when that caused the lights to reflect off the surface.

His dad cleared his throat, and Carl gave him a second. He reckoned that Rick was feeling a lot of what he was feeling- joy that Judith could experience this, and sadness that they had not been able to do this sort of thing for her before.

“Let’s go inside for the rest, okay?” Carl bent over and tapped his sister on her cold nose.

Judith turned at once and launched herself at Carl, hugging her tiny, stick like arms around his waist as hard as she could. “There’s ... more?” Judith’s whisper made Carl grin even harder.

He nodded, and hit the button once more. Eugene’s love of ‘holiday-themed whirlygigs’ had come through for them again. The outside lights turned off, and Carl assumed that the inside lights had turned on. He had painted over the windows on one of his earlier trips, and had boarded up what panes of glass that he couldn’t paint over. Not a speck of light shone through Carl’s careful preparations.

“Here, dad. Catch!”

Rick looked back at Carl in time to catch the key that Carl had tossed. Both Rick and Daryl’s eyebrows rose at that; they didn’t usually lock the doors of their safehouses, in case they were needed in an emergency.

Christmas lights or no, none of them were going to let Judith go into a room that they hadn’t cleared first. Daryl and his dad’s surprise might have been somewhat dampened, but Carl only had eyes for Judith.

She stood in the foyer of the room, staring at what Carl had created, with her wide, blue eyes the size of dinner plates. She didn’t say anything, but her tiny hand came out to clutch at Carl’s hand Carl had to blink a few times to make sure that he didn’t start blubbering all over the place.

Seeing it through her eyes made everything more real, somehow. Carl hadn’t been able to find any green garland- but he’d managed to string more white lights around the living room on each wall. A fire burned merrily in the stove, with a stocking tacked on the mantle of the cold fireplace. Carl hadn’t wanted to chance someone seeing the smoke from the chimney. It had taken a good bit to drag in the stove from the destroyed kitchen, but he didn’t mind too much. Jesus had helped him with the stacks, but the smoke output was a lot less detectable from the small stove instead of the huge fireplace.

The Christmas tree was a little more Charlie Brown than Martha Stewart, but it was pretty enough, if you ignored the fact that it was leaning somewhat precariously to the left. Carl had gone a little crazy on the glass balls, but the way they caught the light of the Christmas lights and sparkled was pretty enough, he supposed.

On a coffee table was a red cloth that Carl had blatantly stolen from Olivia. After the run that had left them with actual, real sugar, he’d had Carol help him with some cookies, and he had saved some soda from a run they’d gone on three months ago. Carl had snagged some of Holly’s cheese- it had been like a damn national holiday when Maggie had reported that the people at Hilltop had managed to make some cheddar cheese. Even funnier was the packages that Jesus had unearthed from somewhere- ‘[ Ricki’s Basic Cheesemaking Kit- with eight Different Varieties ](http://www.cheesemaking.com/shop/ricki-s-basic-cheesemaking-kit.html)!’

Daryl had called Rick ‘Ricki’ for at _least_ two weeks straight, just to be a dick.

There was some chili being kept warm on the stove, and Carl had some popcorn kernels that he hoped weren’t _too_ stale in a little mason jar.

“Uh.” Carl cleared his throat. “I only blocked the windows on this floor. There’s a bedroom upstairs to sleep in. The generator is in the kitchen, through there.Don't worry- the windows are broken, so the fumes will be safe enough.” The kitchen’s back wall had once been beautiful, but time had taken its toll. Something had taken out all the windows that lined the back wall, the sliding glass door on the corner, and part of the wall, so it was safe enough. Cold as hell, but none of them would die from keeping the generator in the house. It was practically outside.

“We should be good down here for awhile.” Rick’s voice was gruff, and Carl mentally gave himself a high five.

“Let’s eat, then.”

It was a feast.

Things had gotten much better than those first few weeks before they’d found the ASZ, and the weeks just after, but this much food was pretty excessive. Carl knew he’d used his ration points for probably a good four months in doing it, and seeing the way Judith ate cookies and cheese and chili until she was so full that she could barely move was worth everything.

They had some time to relax, and to laugh. They hadn’t had time like this in way too long.

“Carl why did you do this?” Judith’s sleepy voice jarred Carl out of his stupor. He’d been staring blindly at the twinkling lights on the tree and hadn’t realized that Jude had been staring at him in that eerily forthright way she had- peering curiously at him through her bangs as she thought through her question and was ready to speak. _That_ was all Daryl. She’d picked up more than one of Daryl’s mannerisms in all the time they’d spent together.

“Well, for two reasons.” Carl stretched and moved one of the pillows he’d been leaning on over to the left to make himself more comfortable. “The first is for you, munchkin.”

Judith’s elfin face scrunched in confusion.

Carl helped himself to the last glass of soda and took a sip. “When I was growing up, mom and dad always did this sort of stuff for me. Mom would bake for days, and we’d all decorate the tree, and mom wouldn’t let dad put up the house lights ‘cuz he would never put them up straight.” Carl grinned a little at the memory. He was a little surprised that he could think of his mom without his heart hurting- usually, he tried not to. He shrugged. “I wanted you to see what all the fuss was about. Plus, it’s kind of fun to do. Surprising everyone, I mean. Dad would have helped, but.” Carl’s grin turned into more of a smirk. “He’d probably put the lights up crooked.”

There was a snort from the couch. Loftily ignoring it, Carl continued.

“And pretty, Carl. It's real pretty!.”

Carl nodded. “And pretty.”

Judith had never grown up with Santa. Surviving took too much time, and effort, and Carl knew that it hurt his dad to not be able to give Judith the childhood he’d given Carl. It was just one more dead thing to mourn.

“Thanks, Carl.” Judith got up from her pillows and walked over to Carl, throwing her arms around his neck and hugging him hard. “I love it.”

Carl kissed her forehead, noticing that the walk to the cottage, the big meal and the warm room had all conspired to make one very sleepy girl. “Here, why don’t you come with me for a bit. Help me get all the lights off. I have one more surprise for you.”

Carl hoped.

He stood up and got Judith settled- made sure that she brushed her teeth, went to the bathroom, stuff he’d been doing for years to tuck her in. He paused for a minute, hearing Daryl and his dad talking quietly on the couch, deliberating if he really wanted to go through with this...

Yeah. It was time.

“Okay, you go on in, and I’ll just get the lights, and the last bit of the surprise. Won’t be very long at all.” Judith gave a sleepy nod, and went back inside the living room, shutting one of the big double doors behind her. Carl had to keep himself from whistling as he walked to the back out of the house, towards the kitchen. The bite of the cold winter air was like a slap in the face. Carl shivered as he shut the door behind him, then blew on his hands, still shocked at how cold it was. Carl lit the candle he’d put on the counter, then walked over to the lowly-humming generator. He shut down the loads on the generator, then waited a few minutes before powering it down completely. The smell of gasoline wasn’t too strong, and the little candle put out just enough ambient light that Carl could easily move around his workspace. He picked up the dented metal mixing bowl, rubbing his thumb against the edge.

He bit his lip and walked outside, long-formed habit keeping his hand on his knife. He looked around, still a little surprised that the weather had kept the walkers from investigating the generator. Carl used his knife to knock off enough icicles to fill the bowl, then walked to where he’d placed an old shoe near where the sliding glass door had been. He poked around a little until he felt the saucepan and lifted out the liquid-filled plastic bag, knocking off the snow he’d buried the bag in. He brought the bowl and the plastic ziptop bag back inside and dumped the ice into the other plastic bag. It only took a few seconds to make sure that the liquid-filled bag had no air. Carl looked at it a bit doubtfully, but trusted Carol when she’d told him he wouldn’t kill anyone by doing this.

Eugene had been delighted when Carl had first broached the idea, and had started babbling excitedly about liquid nitrogen and ice tongs until Carol had placed her hand over his mouth and told him what to do.

It was Carol who had used the evaporated milk, and melted the sugar and vanilla in it. She’d even found the cup of rock salt. Carl hadn’t even _known_ there were so many types of salt!

Concentrating, Carl put the smaller, liquid filled, sealed bag inside the bigger bag with the ice. He dumped in the salt, then closed it all up. Feeling like a dumbass, he started shaking the bags as hard as he could without everything breaking and spilling everywhere.

“Huh!”

Carol had been right. A few minutes of shaking, and the salt had made the ice even colder, which froze the liquid.

“Whatcha doin, kid?”

“Haa- _YAAAHH!!_!” Carl spun around at Daryl’s voice, brandishing the bags like a weapon.

Daryl’s lips twitched. “You gonna attack me with... holy fuck. Is that ice cream?”

Carl stuck the bag behind his back, glaring. “Go back and let me do this.”

Daryl held up his hands, palms facing out, eyebrows raised behind the curtain of his hair. “Sorry. Your dad was just getting a little twitchy is all.”

Carl glared harder.

“Alright, alright. Just hurry up before he starts bawlin’ again, okay? I don’t know what to do with that shit.”

Carl waited until _the nosiest human on the fucking planet_ made his way back inside and shook the bags again, making sure that the ice cream was the consistency that he wanted. Mindful of the time he quickly grabbed the bowls and spoons and dumped the ice cream into them. Just to be an ass, he only gave Daryl and his dad one bowl to share. Judith had her own, as did Carl. Feeling a little silly, Carl stuck miniature candy canes in all of the bowls as a garnish before blowing out the candle and carrying everything back into the living room.

“Sorry- took a little longer than I thought. Here ya go, Judith. And here _you_ go, dad.”

Rick looked at the one bowl with the two spoons for a second before shrugging and handing a spoon to Daryl.

Judith seemed beyond words. She’d had ice cream before, but certainly not very often. For a few minutes all that could be heard was the clinking of metal spoons on the porcelain surface of bowls and yummy sounds as the four of them devoured their ice cream.

“Carl- you said there was a second reason.”

Carl’s grin turned a tiny bit evil.

“So I did. And, it’s also your second surprise.” He lowered his voice, conspiratorially. “Look over there.” Carl pointed with his chin, and Judith obediently looked over to where he’d indicated.

Rick and Daryl were fighting over the last spoonful of ice cream in the bowl, the spoons having some sort of epic battle. His dad was curled into one side of the loveseat. He’d taken off his boots and had curled his toes under Daryl’s thigh. Daryl was sprawled over his side of the small couch, with his arm stretched along the back of the seat, turned towards Rick; half-heartedly fighting with his spoon. Carl’s dad got the last bite of ice cream, but Daryl swooped out of nowhere for the miniature candy cane, popping it into his mouth before Rick could do much of anything.

When Carl and Judith turned to look at the two men, they both froze kind of awkwardly, Daryl with the end of the candy cane sticking out from between his lips, and his dad with the the bowl of the spoon jammed in his mouth, holding it in place with his tongue. They stared at Carl and Judith for a beat.

Carl knew he was smirking, but he pointed to a spot over Rick and Daryl’s head with his spoon.

As one, and seemingly in slow motion, all four of them looked up to the mistletoe that hung down from the ceiling. Carl had just about broken his neck to put it right over the couch like that. Whoever had lived here before really liked their high ceilings, and the ladder had only gone so far. Carl hadn’t steered his sister to the cushion by the table on a whim.

He watched with undisguised glee as both his dad and Daryl turned identical shades of red.

“Your second reason is right there.”

“Daddy and Daryl under a weed?”

“Well, Judith, that’s not exactly a weed.” He squinted with his one eye. Well, okay. It _did_ look a little like a weed, come to think about it. “What that is, is the end to six years of sexual tension.”

“What’s that?”

“It means that daddy and Daryl have to kiss.”

“Gur _-ross._ ”

Daryl had shuffled from his embarrassment to a death glare that if Carl didn’t know the dude loved him like his own kid, he’d be a little afraid. His dad just looked almost comically mortified- gaping at Carl then over to Daryl and back to Carl with his mouth hanging open just enough that the spoon fell out.

Judith, completely uncaring, of the drama that was unfolding on the couch, yawned. “Well, what kind of kiss?”

“I’m not sure, bug. But it’s the law. You have to kiss if you’re caught under the mistletoe.”

Judith cocked her head in the mini-Rick way she had. She folded her arms imperiously and tilted up her chin, looking very serious all of the sudden. “Well, go on then. The law is the law. Like going to bedtime by eight-thirty. Kiss him, daddy.”

Carl copied her stance, although he was pretty sure the effect was ruined by the shit-eating grin on his face. “Yeah. Go on then, Kiss him. Daddy.”

Rick rolled his eyes, leaned over, and smooched Daryl on the cheek so quickly that if Carl or Judith had blinked, they would have missed it. “There. Now get on up to bed, you two.”

Judith frowned. “But. Carl said you had to kiss. That’s not a real kiss. That’s not how Eric kisses Aaron. Or how Carl kisses Enid. So... _kiss_!”

Carl felt his own cheeks flame. He made a sound that he was 87% sure sounded like all of his internal organs collapsing at once and fervently prayed that his dad and Daryl were too embarrassed to remember the fact that the youngest Grimes had a memory like a goddamn elephant.

“Naw. None of that. But you, little girl, need to go to bed. Knowing your brother, there is some other surprise for you in the morning, but only if you go to bed, and go right to sleep.” Rick stood up and held out his arms, and Judith walked over to hug him, resting her forehead on his stomach and yawning.

“‘Kay. G’night, Daryl.”

“I’ll walk you up, make sure you get tucked in okay.” Carl was afraid of pushing it, and Judith was just about dead on her feet. After that bit about Enid, he didn’t think beating a hasty retreat was cowardly. It was prudent. “Besides, we have snow angels to make tomorrow!”

“Mmm.’ Judith yawned again and turned around.

Carl made his way upstairs, noticing that Judith, even as sleepy as she was, stayed out of the way of his blind side. She knew from long habit that she’d have to keep free of his drawing hand, in case of danger.

“Here we are. Let’s get you set for the night, okay?” Carl moved to the nightstand and lit the candle, blinking a little in the sudden light. They’d all made a habit of moving in the dark when they needed to, and his nightvision was pretty damn good for a guy with only one eye. Almost 20/20.

Well, 10/10. 

Carl mentally high fived himself for the eye joke. Michonne would have laughed, too.

“Mhm.” Judith yawned so hard that her jaw popped.

Carl watched as his sister starfished onto the bed, not even bothering to take off her shoes. Carl smiled a little and walked over to her, sliding off the boots, setting them by the bed.

She was already out and didn’t even twitch. Carl picked her up and put her on the daybed in the corner. There were covers enough that Carl knew they didn’t have to worry about the cold. He made sure she was comfortable (she still didn’t move), then glanced at the huge bed in the middle of the room. Carl halfway wished that he had thought this out a little better. Maybe given his dad and his... Daryl their _own_ room, for Pete’s sake. He shook his head and made his way quietly downstairs.

Carl swung open the dining room door and froze.

His dad and Daryl were wrapped around each other on the couch, kissing for all they were worth. Carl didn’t think that there was so much as an inch of space between them. Daryl’s hands were tangled in his dad’s hair, and his dad’s hands were.... Well Carl was pretty sure that he had two handfuls of Daryl’s ass, but he wouldn’t swear to it in court. They kissed like this had been a long time coming, like they didn’t know how to stop, and had no plans for the evening other than memorizing the inside of each other’s mouths.

Judith was right. It _was_ a little gross. Carl was pretty sure he never, ever, _ever_ wanted to hear his dad moan like that for the rest of his natural life.

Slowly, one of Daryl’s hands slid out of Rick’s curls and Carl watched as the man he’d thought of as another father slowly extended his middle finger, flicking him off.

Carl snorted and got the picture- shutting the door and going back towards the kitchen. He slipped outside and looked for a moment, letting the cold air and the stillness of the night wash over him. He wanted to do check of the perimeter of the house before he went up to bed, hibernating walkers or not. Carl took a moment to pat himself on the back, pleased that the night had gone so well. True, it had been a lot of work. He’d called in a lot of favors, and planned this night for what seemed like ages.

There wasn’t a sound to be heard other than the crunch of his boots in the snow. The glint of starlight on the white surface left everything glowing with a muted shine, providing more than enough light for Carl to see almost all the way down the hill. He had plans for sledding, and snowmen, and probably, knowing his dad a snowball fight, but all of that would be later.

He’d really done it. He’d made his sister happier than she’d been in her short life, and nudged his dad and Daryl into what they’d obviously both wanted for _years_ , yet they had both also been too chicken to take the first step. It had been almost agonizing to watch, like two dancers who couldn’t ever get quite in sync. He wasn’t naive enough to think that one kiss would change things, but Carl wasn’t stupid either. If he ever met someone who loved him as much as Daryl Dixon loved his dad, _he_ wouldn’t let go of that either.

Carl leaned against the door and smiled, his breath white puffs in the cold, beautiful, silent night.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> There you have it! This was supposed to be 1200 words of Holiday fluff, but 5200 words later, it didn't quite work out that way.
> 
>    
> 
> 
> BR- I'm sorry that I couldn't get the smut in there. I hope you don't actively hate it. And I sort of got the candy canes and snow angels- just not quite as how you had specified! :)
> 
> Thanks to Maroon and Tweedo for catching my typos and the cheerleading! <3
> 
> Tagging for the Telltale games to be safe- I jacked the bit about the slowed down zomzoms from them!


End file.
